Iron Leg Valor
by 4fireking
Summary: This is a story about a make belief battle after world war two. It does speak like it really happened during a world war but it's from a journal of a soldier who was in this battle. In the end you'll understand why it's called Iron Leg Valor.
1. Chapter 1

This first chapter was written by me and edited by flowerpuzzle938. It started off in a different way but didn't feel like a real story so I had to start over with a new story. This story takes place in a third war after the second world war where all the characters are against each other and doesn't make sense like carrot cake. This is a short story and is about a battle that didn't really happen. You might hate it but I had fun writing it.

( Brratt POV)

This is a journal. Every word you're reading was written by me, Brratt Lucar, an American soldier in the army. This journal was supposed to talk about the war and how you can join and it would tell you all the excruciating pain I've been through. I sent this journal to my wife back in New York City. I don't want to say I survived because after what happened to me I'd rather be dead.

This is my story. My story of my father who died of cancer seventeen years after the first war and my mother who got into big gambling debts and had her face bashed in by a hammer. Whether my parents died peacefully or not makes no difference. In my bones all I feel is the anger for the people who couldn't help them: the doctors and the police.

I wanted to help people. Before I turned eighteen I tried to be good and help people as much as I can. I started by fighting bullies and telling them to stay away from the weaker kids. I was weak. I was weak because I never stood a chance against those bullies and was always humiliated in the worst possible ways; bleeding and crying. I wanted to save good people from condescending people. In a way I am doing that against Germany and Japan. This may sound a little weird but Germany is being run by a leader named Germany. He beat the other candidate by a landslide. Just like Germany our leaders are named after their countries. Germany, America, England, Japan, and France...we're all at war.

Nobody knows why we let these people with weird names to become our leaders, but I do know that they are good leaders except maybe Germany and Japan. I'm in this war because I know this is what my father and mother would have wanted me to do it. When I met America he had glasses and blonde-hair. His jacket was brown, had a fur sash on his shoulders, a white shirt under the jacket and black gloves. Why was he even wearing gloves? It's so hot in America. The stunning part about him was his blue irises and black pupils.

The war has changed people a lot. Before I joined the war I was just a foolish young boy who thought all my problems could be solved by following in love. I was married before I joined this war. My bags were full when I said good-bye. I said I would return when the war was over. I went to the War Meeting Place to sign up for the army, and it was awkward. They made me strip n*** to see if I was a candidate for the war. Guess what, I was.

I remember the last battle. I was in the trenches. It wasn't like those trenches in World War 1 and 2. It was like a castle. A small derelict castle with broken walls and a tower the commander, the people with names that were based on countries, watched us give our lives for a war with no just cause.

Will the winning country, if not us, keep us as slaves or wipeout every last one of us like an animal to extinction before they finally proclaimed victory? There was me and many others. Out of all of them my only friend was a boy named Lewis. I never asked him what his last name was. We've known each other since training and we have hardly said anything to each other. Our first conversation was silent and we didn't even look at each other.

" Bratt."

" Yes."

" Nothing. I thought we were starting. I was wrong. I just...I really just...I miss being home."

When I first met Lewis I was a little nervous to be around him. He doesn't sleep. In our itchy beds and every night he just stays awake like tomorrow was going to be his last day alive. When training he thought the leader's would shot him for being useless. The leader's were strange and ruthless. They treat everyone, even their own soldiers, as units for their stupid plans to fight the other countries.

I heard the British once lost a war against tribesmen who had nothing but spears and shields. I don't remember what the war was called but I remember the British used rifles that fire one bullet then need to be reloaded. I also heard about a plan to beat the Nazi's earlier back in World War 2. They tried flying down from planes to kill the Nazi's. But the Nazi's were waiting for them and killed most of the ten thousand men that came down in parachutes. I don't remember how many died, but I know one of them survived to tell the story of America's biggest mistake.

I remember the chills that crept down my spine. I remember the worry I felt for me and Lewis when the sound of gunfire was heard in the air. We charged out of the trenches to take down the enemy soldiers. In the first half second turret guns killed fifteen of my friends. It seemed like life could end so quickly. All my bones wanted to turn back, and yet I ran for the fort.

What I did in that fort was something I never want to be asked...why?


	2. Chapter 2

**This is a very short written by flowerpuzzle938 and 4fireking. It's really a story to see how good we write together. I hope you enjoy it.**

I ran to the base my breath coming out in short gasps. I watch as more and more of my friends are shot down. I stumble over dead bodies. I trip over a body only to hear it groan. I look over at where I had tripped, and noticed one of my friends laying there hurt.

"Can you walk?" I ask. The man shakes his head, and points to his leg. I look, amd almost puke. Where his leg should have been was just a mess of skin, muscles, tissues, and bone. He'lll never walk right again. I pick him up, and start towards the fort. Every once and awhile the man whimpered in pain.

"We'll be there soon" I promise. As I near the camp I see the other soliders get up, and walk over to me.

(Solider's POV)

Here comes Brratt. He's not with his troop. He is accautly running away from the battle. I prep my gun to shot the coward. But just as I was about to shot I saw the man he had in his arms. I order my troops to go help him get the man into the infirmary.

(Brratt's POV)

The soldiers help me get him to the infirmary. As the doctors work I go and sit down. As I sit down I get a message on my comm. I hear screams in the background, and a few cheers.

"Help the German soldiers have entered from the back with us still inside. We are all going to die" a voice shouted over the comm link.

A doctor grabbed the comm out of his hands, and shouted into it "Reinforcements are on the way!" All that replied was static. Just as the doctor gave me my comm back he was shot by a enemy solider that had snuck in. The soldier then tried to shot me, but ended up shooting me in the foot. He tried to shot me in the head. but his muddy fingers made him miss. He tries to shot my head again, but another one of my friends shot him in the head. I feel like passing out, and guess what I do. When I wake up we are still in battle.

" Brratt, can you stand?" The soldier asked me. With my loss of blood it was probably not possibly for me to move. So much pain was in my legs and going through my cartilage. I wanted this bullet to get out of my leg.

" I can, but it hurts like hell. I need something to stop the bleeding. Do you have something to stop it? Where are the doctors?"

" One of them are dead and the other are hiding. I'm the closest thing you have for a doctor. I never removed of a bullet before but I can't let it destroy your capillaries."

I wrote this in my journal because I want everyone to know how terrible it feels to have a bullet removed from your leg. I always found the calmer you are about pain the less pain you feel but the fear you feel intensifies with pain. The soldier used a knife. A knife we use to cut food with.

" I'm going to be quick," he said. " I'll try to finish it as fast as I can."

" No," I said. " Don't be quick. I want you to be careful where you move that thing. Some things I—"

Without waiting for my answer he stuck that clean knife in my arm. I remember feeling the pain as one of the worse pain in my arm. It was like the bullet was in my arm like holes were going to burst and my blood would come out.

" You lost so much blood," the soldier laughed like it was a big joke. " Maybe you need some whiskey." I tried moving. But the pain in my leg still made it hard to move. " You need to rest."

" If I rest a soldier will sneak in and slit my throat. I'm going to make the German's pay for shooting me in the leg."

" The German's are the least of your concern now. The France and Japan have us outnumbered and once they finish with England their next target will be us."

Knowing high numbers mean bigger chance of soldier's storming into the base and taking us by surprise I sat at the door with my gun raised for any soldier that made it's way through the door. The door was closed right now. They would have to barge through these doors in order to get to us. The soldier whose name escapes me did the exact same thing pointing his gun at the door.

" How many bullets do you have?" I asked. I have twenty bullets. I used a rifle It fires one bullet at a time like a pistol only I had to reload every time I fired. He was lucky getting a gun that fires more than one bullet at a time and takes less time to reload.

" Fifty. Want to trade places?"

" No. I'm safer here. The stairs are too narrow so whoever walks this way has to go one at a time. It will be like shooting ducks."

We waited. We could hear the sound of soldiers running around outside. It was hard to know which side was making those sounds. Enemies? Friends? It was like listening to fireworks only the fireworks were shouting at each other.

" There's something I have to tell you," I said to the solider keeping my eye on the door.

" If this is about making me run so you can die alone forget about it. No matter where I go I'm a sitting duck so I want to die next to a brave and loyal soldier."

" It's not that. I want to talk to you about the biggest sin I've ever done. I let my brother become a junkie and coward. My dear sweet brother joined the army thinking he could help his country, but after finding out how many people die and how many live he paid a solider to shoot him in the leg so he could leave on medical discharge. They let him keep his uniform and he uses it to score with chicks. Too bad I'm coming home with a metal. What are you doing when you get home?"

" I'm going to finish that song I was reading about bells. It's really interesting. It talks about the history of when bells were made and how they make such beautiful sounds. Did you know—"

He was interrupted by loud noises, and it was a good thing too. This history lesson was a really bad time to show up. We were both wondering where what that noise was coming from and we ran outside seeing what that noise was and what it had to do with us. Sounded like our boys were rebelling against these awful other arms, and I was right for a change. People who were soldiers on our side were running towards the Japanese base with new recruits. These men had the spine's my brother never had. I know some of these men were strong but I don't know if they were tough enough to get past the weapons behind that wall. The battle was far from reaching its climax.

" Are we ready to die to teach Germany he can't start a war with our blond haired buddy?" I said making a noble sacrifice but sounding like a jokester when I did it.

" If they want to fight our America, they'll get a good taste of my bullets." The solider agreed raising his gun and smiling.

I was ready to fight the other countries. I ran down the stairs and tripped when I was halfway down. I didn't trip on accident. The hole in my leg hurt so much from the pressure that I just collapsed. With my leg still hurt there was no way I would get into this fight.

" Don't worry," the soldier said reaching his arm towards me. He was trying to lift me u. " We'll take you to the nearest hospital camp and we'll get you healed."

I didn't want his help. Or to put it more accurately I didn't ant him helping me, slowing him down. I slapped his hand away. He didn't like that but he seemed to understand why I did what I did.

" Leave me here. It's safer here than down there. I kinda like the view. Just take my rifle and use it to help the new recruits."

" I don't just take things. I make trades. You gave me your rifle so I have to give you something in return; doesn't have to be of equal value."

He took out his pistol. His dirty pistol he probably never used and probably didn't even check to make sure there was any bullets in it. I swapped my rifle for his pistol. Then he ran down the stairs joining the recruits in battle. He was a lucky soldier. He'll probably survive the battle. And that's why I hated him.

(Soldier's POV)

Brratt wouldn't have slown me down at all. The hallways were so full with both sides I could barely get through myself. I took the rifle Brratt had given me, and shot down some men trying to get America. He looked at me, and nodded his head. I barely dodge a bullet from a Japanese solider. I thought of Brratt up there all alone. I wonder what he thinks of all this.

(Brratt's POV)

It made me so happy to see the solider winning this fight with my gun. I wish I could be down there helping that solider beating the scrawny Japan's soldiers. He finally took out a grenade and threw it into the building. It exploded and killed multiple soldiers. The screams of those soldiers agonizing last moments.

" Everyone stop!"

A man stepped into the battlefield. He was our leader America. America's hair was the shiniest of every solider in the army. The leader was bulky in the sense he was a little fat. France was a no muscle long haired, girly looking man. Japan was a small boy and a dark haired boy who has a menacing glare in his eyes. Germany was short blond hair and wore a blue uniform. The last of the leaders was England. His hair was blond banged with green eyes and big eyebrows. Seeing all these leaders together could only mean a truce was being negotiated.

**Fifty Years Later.**

Today is my grandson's birthday. I mean their twin birthday. My boys are blondes and tanned. My oldest grandson Christopher is a little is twenty years old. It turns out when I returned home fifty years ago that my wife was pregnant. I was married when I was seventeen years old but my son didn't get married until he was twenty-eight. He wouldn't even have grandchildren if the Catholic religion didn't make you have kids as soon as you got married. For the last fifty years there's never been a war. My friend Lewis visits me on my birthdays or any day I have off. The solider I fought with still survived and had kids of his own. Retirement, a waste of life.

" Hey Brratt," the solider whose name was never told to me walked up to me on my armchair and pointed at my leg. It was now replaced with a band with a metal heart restrained around it. " Nice leg."

This silver was my honor. It's a reminder I was there when five leaders had a truce during a war. They never had anything like that in World War 1 or 2. The feeling of pride I see in this leg is overwhelming.

I now see the humor in war.


End file.
